


Suits You

by LittleGreenPlasticSoldier



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bad Puns, Cheese, Dean's POV, F/M, Interrupting Sam, Kissing, Originally Posted on Tumblr, POV Dean Winchester, POV First Person, Reader-Insert, Self-Insert, Sexual Content, Sharing Clothes, Sign Language, awkward turtle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 03:32:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9104833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleGreenPlasticSoldier/pseuds/LittleGreenPlasticSoldier
Summary: You get very messy during hunts, but you never seem to bring spare clothes.  Luckily for you, Dean’s a planner.For @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog Trope Challenge: No.11. Clothes sharing.





	

**Author's Note:**

> AN: I know the sign for turtle is different in different countries. I’m using this one for Auslan, not ASL (which is also very cute), because it works.

Oh my god.  You fight so dirty.   _So_ dirty.  I love it.

Speaking of, would it kill them to clean the tub?  I wouldn’t wash Sam’s socks in here.  Can’t imagine what you’re tolerating next door.  Check that: _Won’t_ imagine. Though you’re probably showering on tiptoe to stay outta the puddle. Possibly the daintiest you’ll ever get… You’ve got strong legs. And I’m gonna stop that there before I think of some other reason for you to tiptoe in the shower…  Stopping.

Firstly, you hold nothing back - strength, strategy, you go straight for the balls, hack the bone - ‘cause it’s not like they’re going to go easy on you, is it?  I especially like it when it’s vampires ‘cause you break in there like a banshee, like Leeloo (with clothes, obviously), and the looks on their faces when you slice off the defensive hand first - I mean, a hand?  Chop-chop-chop! Arm! Chest! Face! Get me to the Princess!!  

“Dean, what are you laughing at?”

“Nothin’. Shuttup.”

It doesn’t matter, you hack your way to their neck like a frikken hero, and they’re all _Noooo She’s so knifey!_

“Seriously, alone and giggling in the bathroom isn’t-”

“Shuttup! I’m allowed!”

“Close the damn door then!”

_Fuck off._

But yeah.  I know you’ve got mercy, I’ve seen it, just not then.  And it’s extra dirty ‘cause all that attack gets so much blood.  Oh my god you come up like some sort of psycho, beaming proud, gore Pollock’d and _Good work team!_  It’s just adorable.  

What I don’t get is how you haven’t figured to bring a change of clothes.  Every time we come away from a vamp hunt you sit in the back like a horror movie mannequin and zombie-walk back to your room, arms up out in front from all the gross, and you’re still surprised.  I couldn’t bear it, so if you ever directly ask me _why_ it’s going to be because of the car’s interior and getting sick of cleaning that but…

You in my shirt.  Or my jacket.  

Yeah.

I don’t know who I’m kidding.  Possibly you.  Definitely not Sam.  It’s just nice, you know.  You look… cared for.  Snug.

Also, they come back smelling all girly _and_ you make jokes about getting changed in front of us - and for _those_ jokes you smile in a way you never normally do.  You’re cheeky and twinkle about it.  It’s that neat little thrill of flirtation, you do it so well.  And, I will admit, even if I’m literally multiples of 14 years old, watching you pull a bloodied bra out of my sleeve will never.  Ever.  Get old.

Alright, I’m about as clean as I’ll ever be. Still cleaner than this bleach forsaken bathroom.  Time to go stare at the ceiling with a chub I can’t tug over a woman I apparently don’t want.  Yey Thursday.

…

“I coulda sworn I had a bag in here!”

“Whatcha missin’?”  You look grumpy.  And cold.  I’m gonna lean my arm on the open trunk here and pretend I don’t know exactly what you’re looking for.  Yep, all business.

“I only agreed to stay out later because I thought I brought a spare duffel,” you say, pulling at the things in the upper partition.  “Seriously, the sun disappears and I’m instantly freezing.”

“That would be your reptilian ancestry.”

“You figured it out huh?” You huff and close the trunk.  “So am I snake or lizard?” You even do a little Slytherin lick to test it.

“Turtle.”

“Ha!”  Made ya laugh.  Ten points.  “Hey, you know the sign for turtle?”

“No, what is it?”  You and your trivia.  Actually, wait- you’ve been learning ASL…. You put one hand on top of the other, both palms down, and swim your thumbs out at the sides.  I copy you, saying “It’s a bit awkward.”

“Awkward turtle.”

“Hey, you want my jacket?”

“You have a spare?”

No.  “Yes. I am always better prepared than you.”

“Can I smack it off you?”

Ow! shit, yes, clearly you can.  “You want it or not?! Jesus!”  

You shrug it on and hug it to yourself, rub it up and down your arms and smile a thank you.  That’s what keeps me warm without my jacket.

I like when we’re out at night.  I can see you more, get away with looking more, like anyone who would care to comment wouldn’t catch the evidence.

“I’m gonna go talk to the victim,” you say, and you’re off.  

Looks like I’ve got cop duty.

…

“I already talked to your colleague.”  This poor girl.  She can’t be more than 19.

“I know you did, and I’m so sorry, but I need to ask, you said the thing that knocked you down was invisible?”

“Yeah,” she sighs heavy and tired. Would it be patronising, or _weird_ , if I offered to call someone for her?  

“Hey I believe you, I do.”  I can never tell when they believe me, to be honest.  “Do you mean you saw nothing at all?  Did the light bend, or did you see shimmering in the air? Anythin’ like that?”

“Yes!” Oh hello, she’s grabbing the air between us.  Tell me more, sister. “It was like, um, predator!  Shit!  Don’t tell them that! The cops - they’re local. They’ll-”

“Don’t worry.  Not a word.”  Okay, that she believed, but it’d be good if she’d stop bouncing her f- “Uh, where did you get that jacket?”

“Your colleague gave it to me.”

No shit.

“She said it was her husband’s.”

“Sorryshewhat?”  She _what?_

“No- well, she didn’t _say_ that, I just assumed…”

“Riiiight…. And why would you assume that?”

“She said it belonged to the bravest, most handsome man she knows.”

“…No shit.”

Okay, that went too far.  Now she’s smiling at me like she knows something.  “You know nothing.”  That’s probably something I wasn’t mean to hear.  “Quit smilin’ - you know _nothin’_. Y’hear?”

“O-hokay!” She hides her laugh behind the jacket cuffs.

“Okay?”  Well, at least I made her happy.  Time to go. “You take care, alright?  Call us if you think of anything else.”  Card, pat, smile…

Alright, where the hell are you.

You’ll be in the car, right?  Where it isn’t freezing.  I frikken hope so coz I’m not traipsing around out here looking for your goosebumped butt.

I’ll just check though, ‘cause if you are, you’ll be shivering by now… Not with Sam… Not at the kill site… Not with the cops….

Oh for fuck’s sake.  At least you’re not behind the wheel.  “You been here the whole time?!”

“Of course!”  You’re lookin’ at me like I’m not this stupid.  “It’s freezing out there!  I think it’s a rakshasa.”

I climb in and close the door, rubbing my hands warm.  “Me too.  Where’s my jacket?”

“I gave it to the victim.”

“Why?”  Hmmm? Whyyyy?

“‘Cause she was colder than me, and didn’t have a car to climb into.”

Right, right, _very_ convincing.  “She said you said it belonged to the most handsome man you know.”

Busted.  Your eyelashes flick up and your focus goes middle-distance, all _wooshit_ for about a quarter-second. “It was all sweaty,” you lie.  “Had to make it appealing somehow.”

Scoff.  “ _Oh!_ **O** kay!  Very necessary.”  Woman, even you don’t believe you.  Look at those dimples.  “We got a snack in that glove compartment?”  I lean across to open it and you reach too and I swear to God if I didn’t know you were alive and well beside me I’d think you’d been turned by a white walker.  “Jesus, Y/N! You’re freezing!”

I’ve get your hand sandwiched between mine and holy cow you’re cold.  Really cold.  “How are your teeth not chattering right now?!”  Are you dead?  You might be dead.

“It’s just my hands,” you shrug, “and my feet.  They take it up somehow.  The rest of me’s okay.”

I put my hand on your ribs and, sure enough, a much more reasonable temperature, but still.  

“Where’s your spare jacket?”

Eeeer- “It’s.  I.  Didn’t.  Need it.”  Yes.  “I’m warm enough.”

It’s dark in here, but I don’t miss the glance you give me, and it says exactly that you know I lied about the spare and I definitely don’t miss your fingertips hooking around the side of mine, your thumb brushing over the back of my hand.

“Yeah, you do run hot.”  

‘Scuse me? Wait.  Ex _cuse_ me, what do-

“Why did you remember the handsome part and not the brave part?”  Oh don’t sound sad, it’s not- I had to pick _one_.

“…I remembered.”  I just didn’t want to hear you knock down brave.  

I’m staring at you staring at my hand and I’ve got half a mind, maybe four-fifths of a mind to let my other hand drop down to your waist, your hip.  Every time I help you along or somehow get my hand here it slips into my palm so perfectly.  Makes the rest of my arm twitch like I might pull you close, into my side, and then you would slide into place - arm around my waist, smiling up at me…

Shit.  Make a joke.   “She thought you were talking about your husband.”  Huh.  Lol.  Funny.  

Okay you didn’t really laugh at that like I thought you would…  Where is Sam when I need him? Awkward turtle is drowning.

“Wish I was.”

“What was that?”  Was what? Don’t look at me like that-  Don’t-  I heard what you said, don’t- “Y/N?”

Please don’t tease me with that face.  You’re hopeful, or worried.  Sweetheart if you’re just gonna tell me you’re tired right now, I’m gonna-

You put your other hand on top of mine.  I can’t believe it doesn’t hurt, it’s so cold.  That’s when I notice your muscles shivering, around your waist.  You pull my palm up to your cheek, chilled and rosy.  “Is this okay?”

“Yeah.  How are you still alive?”

“The car really isn’t that warm…  I’m fucking freezing!”

“Come’ere.”  There’s definitely a day I’d have you scooch over, even sit you over my lap if you wanted, but you hitch your leg up onto the seat and swing the other over, right into my arms, and it doesn’t even surprise me, I don’t hesitate for a second.  I lay my hands on your back, broad as I can and you suck your breath in through your teeth.

You’ve got your cheek against my shoulder, turned away, but if I run my hands up and down enough maybe you’ll uncurl a bit.  

“It this okay?”

“Yeah.  Quit askin’.”

“It’s just that this is very intimate.”  You talk like it could be a joke, and we could take it back and pretend you never pressed yourself against me like this, got your body warm off mine…

“It is.  I like it.”  Really like it.  Trying not to think about how much I like it actually ‘cause suit trousers don’t do shit for modesty.

“Yeah, s’nice.” You turn to face me, look up so you can stay close and defrost, and you take in another shuddering breath, tuck your knees into the seat a bit more and-! Ffffffuck you’re flexible.  

All of me goes still and pushes back into the seat.  “Uuuh you keep doing that you’re gonna find out just how much I like it.”  A ha ha.  

You don’t really react.  Again.  

I’m chewing every foot I can here sweetheart, throw me a line at least.  “Gad, your nose is cold.”

“Sorry.” I can hear your smile in that and you kiss the skin you stung.  It’s not silly, or smoochy.  It’s the teensiest pluck I’ve ever felt.

Maybe if I hold still for long enough you’ll do it again…   “I didn’t feel that.”

Breath breaks in your throat, a little scoff at me, and you reach up and do it again.  Tickles like a kitten.

My hand slides up and over your hair, and you take it as a sign and kind of lean your lips on me, then it's a full, sucking kiss on my neck, right under my pulse, slow, like you’re watching me and I think, I’m pretty sure I made a noise.

“That?”

Enough of being stupid; I want this.  “Yeah. Think I felt somethin’.”  I look down and you tilt your head back.  The skin on my face is starting to feel smacked from a fast change in temperature.  “You feel anythin’?”

Jesus, you’re kissing me.  Holy shit.  Your lips are still cool, but full, and sweet and-  This is-  I have deliberately not thought about this and- Sssweet Jesus, your tongue is like a minnow.  A really friendly minnow.  It- It’s like you’re made to… fit… _God. **Yes.**_

“I’m sorry.”  You mumble it right into my mouth, hands on my face, you smell fucking divine.

“W- why are you sorry?”

“Shouldn’t do this,” you say, muffling through the kisses you think you shouldn’t be doing.

“I don’t know about you Y/N, but if you’d forgotten a change of clothes one more time-” Oh shit, hands on my neck, in my hair, ssssshit that feels nice.  I slide down so you can fit above me, curving me back, bowing over me between my face and the roof.  Hot and oh God you’re _surging._  Please don’t-

“Or what?”

“I’s about to make you go without.”

You smile, bounce this giggle that’s pure sparkling relief.  Eyelashes and eye crinkles, bitten lips, hair starting to get wispy.   It doesn’t feel so dark in here any more.  Fuck you’re gorgeous.

“I was beginning to think that wasn’t working.”

Sorrywhat?  I just happen to have my hands on your ribs right now and that’s probably a good thing because I’m squeezing you pretty hard.  

You pull back to look at me, bite your lips together and I can’t-  Seriously. Did I get played?

“You’ve been bringing your clothes for me to wear,” you helpfully clarify.

Plain fact that.  Thank you.  Okay, yes. Yes I have.  “Because-”

“You coulda packed a spare set of _my_ clothes,” you say and I blink because that honestly never occurred to me.  You’re holding my head and neck, and lean down on me even closer.  I can’t get my mouth to close.  “But you didn’t.  You brought me yours.”

You get near enough to kiss, brush your open lips against mine and reach your tongue out to pull in the upper lip, lick it in between yours and kiss it, and then you do the same with the other.  There isn’t a part of me that doesn’t respond to that and anything that can grow, _does_.

“Do you like wearin’ my clothes?”

This time you nod, look me in the eye and show me your most earnest, honest, let-me-tell-you nod I’ve ever seen.

“ _My_ clothes.”  Right.  I play my tongue inside my teeth and think of what that might mean.  

Then I notice what you’re doing - staring at my tongue, licking in your bottom lip to bite, fucking shiny and _plump_ , eyebrows tilting like you’ve bitten too hard and then you see me staring at you, a little _hmm_ and you nod.  “Yours.”

Fuck.

I’ve never kissed anyone like this before and I don’t think I ever should.  I’m risking split lips, suffocation and sprained tongues and I don’t care.  Months of teasing, months on that of desire, and months to come of fucked if I’m missing out on this.  My hands aren’t big enough, the car’s not big enough, I can’t pull or lift or hug enough to get you as close as I’ve wanted.  There are _clothes in the way._

This is a rubbish place to start this but you’re humming this sweet kind of oh sound at the back of your throat and returning every grab and stroke I give, fucking fingernails over my shirt, slipping round my ribs.  By the time I’ve got a hot hand up the back of your shirt you’re almost choking on your breath and hugging my neck.

You grab holda my tie with one hand, buttons and all, and get all four fingers of the other inside the loop, inside my collar, like to rip it open, climb inside, fuck.  Fuck!  “You don’t feel so cold any more.”

“Maybe you should take my temperature.”

Oh Jesus _yes._  I grab your hips, right on your waistband, and start thumbing across the front pocket, maybe tugging on a belt loop.  You’re smearing yourself against me, rolling your hips and pushing your knees apart.  It feels fucking sinful and when I push my hand down there, just the back of my hand, my knuckles, I can feel your softness, the goddamned mound of you all warm and I hit somethin’ ‘cause you gasp hard, crush my collar and buckle over me.

“Uuuhfuck _sweetheart_.  I can’t-”

“Uh guys?”

“Shit!” You gasp it in my ear, freezing, and we stare at each other for seconds before a knock on the window - Sam’s knuckle, beside his waist - makes us look outside.  I think to put my hands on your hips again.

“Guys, I appreciate the importance of your, uh, conversation right now, but it’s getting really cold out here.”

You lean your lips on my forehead, take a few solid, deep breaths and quietly hum yourself sensible again - “Okay… alright… s’all good.”  

I’m trying to calm down too.  Can pretty much hear my cock screaming obscenities right now.  

Slowly you climb off, tug my shirt back to centre, smooth down my hair, and I’m practically woozy with your uncontrollable, adorable, ahem-yes-as-you-were face that can’t stop smiling.

I sneak in one quick kiss - one of those perfect snapping smackers - and you tuck yourself against the door while I move over behind the wheel.  “Okay.”  Coast is clear.

Sam climbs in and clears his throat in no particular way.  “… so, rakshasa?”

“Yep.”

I start the car and we head off.  After a while, I figure there’s no point pretending otherwise.  He knows what we were doing.  You know what we’re doing.  I start glancing over at you a bit.  You’re chewing your lip, bouncing a knee.  I kinda slide my hand across the seat next to me, just a little ways, palm up.

You look down at it, up at me, and decide to undo your seatbelt and slide on over.  Well, that’s one of the best things ever.  I’ve got someone who’ll slide over while I drive, lean against me inside my arm.  Makes me happy.

“No point you gettin’ cold again,” I say, quiet and private.

“No, you’ll have to keep me warm when we get back too.”  Ohyeah, yes, Jesus, I’ll help with that.  I’m trying to focus on the road here, not grin at you every other second.  Then you lean up, put your hand on my ribs and whisper in my ear, “I’ve got _absolutely nothing_ to wear.”


End file.
